Into the DANGER ZONE

[faderifting]

WHO: All Rifters + the 7 natives who signed up
WHAT: Searching the ruins of Haven for survivors, an Inquisition crew finds something strange. And demons. It's kind of scary that the demons aren't the strange thing.
WHEN: Third week of Harvestmere, 9:41
WHERE: Haven
NOTES: We've broken rifters and rescuers (or "rescuers") into two groups. This log has an arrival comment for each group--you can start smaller subthreads beneath those rather than try to have an eight- or nine-person log, just incorporate surrounding chaos/fighting--and a third top-level set for the whole group's journey back to Skyhold

You were asleep-- deeply or fitfully, for the last time or just resting your eyes for a moment-- and then you were not. And wherever you were was not, anymore, replaced by nothing but the sensation of falling, tumbling into endless, bottomless nothing. If this were still a dream, you would wake before you hit the ground. You can't die in a dream, they say. In some worlds.

But there's no waking here, just a flare of green-white light and a jarring impact, barely softened by snow that lies a foot deep with an icy crust that cracks beneath the force of your landing. The wind is biting cold, the sun is bright, and you are not alone. Others thud to the ground nearby, as bewildered as you, and others run up who look no less confused for having their feet beneath them.

You are also not as you were: in the palm of your left hand there glows a narrow splinter of light the same sickly green as whatever brought you here. It aches, a bone-deep pain that gnaws even through all the distractions. Like that you're being attacked by monsters, some tall, spindly stick-things with too many eyes, some hunched and hooded with no eyes at all.

Welcome to Thedas!

Comments

[slipshot]

She so obviously was completely lost that a great sadness washed over him then, pulling his lips and brows down into an expression of hopeless sympathy. "I... I'm sorry, but I've never heard of any of those places. Or any creature known as the Dark Lord. You're in the Hinterlands, my lady, in the Kingdom of Ferelden, in Thedas. I- I wish I could tell you I've ever heard of your homeland, but I--"

But I'm not sure it even exists.

He swallowed and looked back toward the rift, pointing at it.

"That- where you came from. That leads to the Fade, to the other world beside ours. When you dream, that is where you are. It's not-- mortals can't go there, except in dreams." He turned back to her, looking nervous. "Are you sure you aren't--- are you sure you aren't a spirit...?"

[laurenande]

His pity was so sincere and complete that Galadriel could not find it in her to refuse him. That he had never heard of the Dark Lord was a blessing, but the names he provided were as unfamiliar to her as her lands to him. For a moment, Galadriel was worried and, admittedly, felt a pang of fear. To be so distant from her lands, from where she was needed...she couldn't conceive of it, not truly.

He tried to explain, about the land of dreams, and though she followed his gestures she was distracted. If she had not been, perhaps, she would have reconsidered her words before she answered him.

"I am neither mortal nor do I dream," Galadriel replied and sounded distant as she stared at the rift. Her mind moved to his last question, so laced with nervousness and gentle suggestion that it gave her pause. She looked back at him and regretted how she'd let her attention wander; he had saved her life, he deserved better than half her regard.

"I have always had a body," she said gently and confidently, as though that was the sort of thing one assured others of. "I have known those who did not, but I am not from their lands."

"No, it seems I am simply very far from home, but to what end? That I do not know."

[slipshot]

Gavin paled as she spoke, his ears drooping. I am neither mortal, nor do I dream. He had no idea what that meant. Or rather, he did, all too keenly, and suddenly felt very, very small.

The always having a body part was, at least, comforting. He hoped.

"I wish I could tell you," Gavin offered, his voice quiet. "But I - I've never seen anyone like you, or heard of them, save perhaps in legends."

Or you know. Religious dogma. But you couldn't exactly come out and ask someone if they were a god.

[laurenande]

Galadriel's frown was mild, but disconcerted. He was elven. True, the elves of Aman were a rarity of sorts, and if this land was really so far that they knew neither the dark lord nor the shadowed lands, they would not have met any of the Noldor. To have heard of them in legend was not...unimaginable, but it was not likely.

This was terribly confusing, both for herself and for him.

At once she realized she had put a question to him, one she had not intended to, and her expression softened with apology.

"I am sorry," Galadriel said. "I did not expect you to know why I am here, you have already told me more than I expected. Thank you."

She paused, then, and weighed the value in questioning him further. He had done her a great service, and the battle had ended, but she did not know if the danger had truly passed. If it had not, she could be wasting precious time. If it had...she greatly desired answers and, unfortunately, he was the only person she could ask at the moment.

"How do you not know another elf? Are you not an elf, also? Did you not say you are of the clan Ashara?"

[slipshot]

"Ah - yes, I'm one of the People," He said, flushing slightly that she would even have to ask, but then again - how many elves were like her. "But I... I'm very mortal, I'm afraid. As are the rest of my people. They tell stories that the Ancient Elves were immortal, but I always assumed that was just- well. Stories." The flush deepened slightly, and he turned his attention out around them, as if half hoping that a demon would appear and stop him from feeling very suddenly lesser.

"I thought for a moment you were Mythal," He admitted, feeling absolutely ridiculous. "Come out of the Fade to... to help us. With Corypheus, and the sky."

[laurenande]

Mythal?

His admission seemed to discomfort him, though Galadriel had no idea why. It was troubling that he was mortal, yes, but the fact that he had never met an immortal elf...that concerned her. That the immortality of the elves was unknown to him except in legend, that was something she would have to investigate.

Not now, however. She was disoriented, their company had just been in mortal peril, and she would trouble him no more with questions.

"I know not the darkness you face, but if it is within my power to aid you, I will see it done." She pressed her hand over her heart and, for a moment, hazarded a bow to him. "You have helped save my life today and I thank you, Gavín of Ashara. I am in your debt."

[slipshot]

That made him flush for an entirely different reason, his ears turning bright red. Thanking him, of all people--

"No! No, no, you owe me no debt, none. I -- I am most honoured - truly humbled - that is- It's my job, I'm supposed to-" The words just kind of tumbled out onto each other, jumbling together, making it worse as he went. Finally, as red as a tomato, he just put a hand over his mouth to stop himself, and looked away. "I -- Follow me, I think you should come talk to a few people."